Prologue
A deathly quiet shrouded the village of Godric's Hollow. Hundreds of warlocks within their homes waited with bated breath. Thousands of magical creatures from tiny Gobble-Ants to gigantic Milk-Gazelles retreated to the warmth of their shelters. All had sensed the threat that swooped overhead and all maintained a deathly stillness lest they draw its attention. The night was black. Even the light of the waning crescent moon and the glitter of hundreds of faint stars had diminished. A gentle mist had already begun to cloak the village, a mist born of the creatures that floated through the air above, long black cloaks trailing behind them. The breath of those creatures rattled in their throats and every time they sucked in the air, the night grew colder and colder.
Lower down, on the branches of tall trees and on the rooftops of houses, stood more figures, also cloaked in black, but these were definitely human. They wore silver masks to hide their faces. Each hand clutched a slender wooden rod and each rod tip was glowing faintly silver. Indistinct silver vapor hovered above them, as though shielding the humans from the inhuman predators above.
But the dozen masked men and women were not watching the skies. Seemingly indifferent to the threat above, their gazes were fixed on a large five-floor house on the main road of the village. Every now and then, a jet of green light flashed inside that house, illuminating first the front windows and then the back ones. A long high-pitched scream sounded. A couple of the masked figures laughed. A minute later, yet another flash of green light came. Then the ground beneath the house began trembling. The house began to collapse, the floors crumbling inward upon one another, showers of brick and glass raining down upon the neatly manicured lawns below. A thick cloud of dust rose and covered the house for a few moments.
"He has done it!" called a woman's voice jubilantly. She pointed the rod in her hand towards the sky. It emitted a blue jet of light and a strange symbol was painted on the skies above; a white skull with an emerald serpent coming out of its mouth. From the treetops and rooftops, the masked men and women sent celebratory showers of sparks into the sky. Their excited cries and shouts filled the air.
Under the cover of the cloud of dust, a scarlet serpent slid out of the ruined house. Had the masked men and women not had their gazes turned towards the sky, they might have noticed and wondered at the haste it showed as it slithered onto the road. The serpent streaked away, down the main road and out of the village.
"Where is he?" called the same woman's voice. "Why does our great master not come out?"
A moment later, everything from faint pops to loud cracks sounded as two score people stepped out of thin air and onto the main road, directly in front of the slowly crumbling house.
"Our goal is accomplished! Retreat!" ordered a commanding male voice. With pops and cracks of their own, the masked figures melted into thin air.
"They've fled, the stinkin', flea-bitten cowards!" roared a booming voice. It belonged to a man who was more than large enough to match the loudness of the voice. When he'd neared the collapsing house, he was tall enough to peer into the broken window of the second level and big enough that he was wider round the middle than the pair of oaks in the garden.
Next to the giant was a man in midnight blue robes. He had bright blue eyes and a crooked nose that seemed to have been broken more than once. His silver hair and beard were long enough to tuck into his waist. A jet-black length of wood, clutched in his hand, was pointed at the still intact frame of the front door of the collapsed house.
"The attack on the school was plainly a distraction to ensure we would not be able to respond to the call for help in time. I fear the worst. Minerva, Severus, with me. Hagrid stand guard outside the door. Alastor, set up a perimeter around the block and ensure that the enemy is truly gone from here." Beckoning to a woman in tartan robes and a man in black ones, he strode off towards the house. The giant took up position outside the front door whilst the trio entered, spheres of white light glittering above their free hands.
They made their way to the back of the house, following a trail of bodies. At the sight of each one, the sadness on Minerva's face grew. At the sight of the body lying outside the kitchen door, tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. "Oh James" she murmured. The black-robed man, Severus, paused at each body only long enough to peer into the face. Then, relief spreading on his features, he would move on, with no regret shown for the loss of life. The man in robes of midnight blue kept a stoic face throughout, his face unchanging as he led the other two through the house.
When they had reached the back exit of the house, they saw strange runes burned into the broken pieces of the back door. The runes were still glowing faintly. Broken potion bottles lay next to the door as thought they had been hurled at it. Minerva's eyes landed on a cradle floating in the air. A baby boy sat in it, watching the strangers with wide eyes. Tufts of jet-black hair grew all over his head and his eyes were a brilliant emerald green. On his brow, was a gash, still bleeding lightly, shaped like a lightning bolt. "He is alive!" Minerva rushed forward. The light above her palm went out, as she picked up the baby and clutched him to her chest, his small head resting on her shoulder. She said, "The runes are still glowing still Albus. The door must have broken only seconds ago, due to the pressures of the collapsing house. The whole building is unstable. We must leave."
Albus Dumbledore made no reply. He was looking at two bodies that lay on the floor to one side of the room, half-covered in shadow. The first was a woman with pretty red hair and pale skin. Her gold-flecked green eyes stared at the ceiling, glassy in death. The second was a man with a largely fleshless head that was little more than skin stretched tight over skull. He had slits on the face for nostrils and extremely thin, pale pink lips.
McGonagall gave a great shuddering gasp at the sight of the man. Then it seemed to dawn on her that he was dead. Relief chased the fear out of her face only to be replaced by shock. "Albus? Severus? How…" But neither man paid her any attention. Albus Dumbledore was pointing his wand all around the house, making sweeping movements with it, muttering under his breath as he worked. Severus Snape, on the other hand, was still as a dead tree trunk, his eyes fixed on the woman. His face was a mixture of exquisite agony, deep regret and unspeakable grief. The hand holding his wand trembled. The light sphere over the other palm had gone out.
Minerva reached out a hand and gripped Severus's shoulder, a single tear sliding down her cheek. Severus did not notice her gesture. He seemed oblivious to all but the form of the unmoving woman.
Dumbledore finished whatever he had been doing and lowered his wand. "I have determined what took place here. I will explain outside. Minerva, bring little Harry and the bodies of the fallen outside. Severus—"
"Severus?"
"Severus!" This time Dumbledore's voice was firm, demanding attention and a response.
Severus Snape turned towards Dumbledore. The light in his black eyes seemed to have gone out. A slow rage was building behind his eyes. He looked even more forbidding and terrifying than usual.
"Bring Lily outside" said Dumbledore gently.
Like a puppet on strings, Severus stowed away his wand, knelt on the floor and gathered up dead Lily in his arms. Minerva waved her wand and stretchers appeared out of thin air. As she walked out of the house, she gathered up the fallen bodies onto the stretchers. Severus followed her, his eyes still fixed on Lily's face. Dumbledore came out last, apparently lost in thought, a single stretcher floating behind him. It bore the man with the inhuman face.
When Minerva stepped out of the front door, a loud, cheery voice said, "An' there's baby Harry! I knew they'd be alrigh—" He trailed off as he noticed the stretchers that were now following Minerva out of the house. "James! An' – An'—Oh no, Lily…" Tears began to slide down the giant's face. They stopped abruptly when Dumbledore exited, final stretcher in tow. Terror and horror mingled with disbelief and hope on the giant's face. "He's – He's gone?"
"It seems so" said Dumbledore, his face grave. "Hagrid, please go and tell Alastor to signal the retreat to headquarters. Here—" He reached out to Minerva, and taking baby Harry from her arms, he handed the boy to Hagrid. "—you take him to headquarters yourself. Keep him safe. Give him to no one else. I will decide what is to be done with him."
Hagrid cradled the baby boy in one over-large palm and strode off.
"How?" croaked Severus. "How did it happen?"
"The Sacrificial Protection" said Dumbledore softly. When it was evident that there was no way to escape Voldemort—" Minerva and Severus flinched at the sound of the name. "Voldemort" said Dumbledore firmly. "How many times have I told you not to be afraid to use the name?" McGonagall looked a little abashed. Severus merely waited for Dumbledore to go on. "When it became clear to Lily that no hope of escape remained, she took her own life, sacrificing it to cast a spell, the Sacrificial Protection, over her infant son. Lily invoked ancient magic, magic that Lord Voldemort knows not about. So, when he tried to kill baby Harry—you noticed where the curse hit him on the forehead? – the spell rebounded. Rebounded and tore Voldemort's soul from his body."
"Tore his soul from body? An odd phrasing Dumbledore… Is he gone?" demanded Severus.
"Not entirely. He has lost his mortal form, but he remains in the world still."
"But, how is that possible, Albus?" asked Minerva.
But Dumbledore seemed to have gone hard of hearing. "We must capitalize on the absence of Voldemort to round up his followers. Severus, you have a part to play still. I will guide you to the destination. Come." Dumbledore gripped both their arms lightly and turned on the spot. Minerva and Severus turned with him and in a swish of cloaks they were gone.
Privet drive was sleeping except for one tabby cat that sat, unblinking, on the garden wall of No. 4. Its eyes, with strange square markings around them, were fixed on a corner of Privet Drive, the only place that the light of the street lamps did not reach. It seemed to be waiting for something.
When the gong of a nearby clock tower struck midnight, Albus Dumbledore appeared on the corner the cat had been watching. In one arm, he held a baby boy wrapped securely in blankets. With his wand hand, he reached into an inner pocket and pulled out what looked like a silver cigarette lighter. He clicked it. The light of the nearest street lamp flew into the lighter. Click. A second light vanished into the lighter. Fourteen times, Dumbledore clicked the Put-Outer, until Privet Drive was completely dark. Then he walked up to No. 4.
"All quiet, Minerva?" he asked the cat. The cat leapt off the garden wall. Mid-jump, it changed into a stern-faced woman with square spectacles. "All is quiet, Albus, just as it has been for the last few weeks. Do you truly mean to leave the boy here? On Yule of all days? I have been watching these people and they are truly horrid! They are nothing like us Albus! Harry Potter should not have to come and live here when so many families in our world would be glad to take him in and feel honored to raise him like a son!"
"You know of the fame he has earned already" said Dumbledore calmly. "Imagine the boy growing up surrounded by adoring youngsters and indulgent adults. The attention, the fame, it would go to his head, Minerva. No, far better for him to grow up away from all that, until he is ready to take it."
"You know best, of course, Albus," said Minerva.
In silence they walked up to the front door of No. 4. Dumbledore placed the sleeping baby on the footsteps, adjusting his blankets so that he was snugly tucked in. He muttered something under his breath. The air around the boy glimmered for a moment. Drawing an envelope out of another inner pocket, Dumbledore tucked it into the baby's blankets.
"The letter will explain everything and my spells will keep him asleep and warm."
Minerva looked like she wanted to protest leaving the boy there once more but she pressed her lips together and stopped herself. They walked to the corner that was always shrouded in shadow. Dumbledore clicked a different button on his lighter. The trapped lights flew out of silver lighter and back into the street lamps. Wordlessly, he and Minerva turned and vanished.
In his blankets, Harry rolled over in his sleep, one hand closing over a stuffed stag toy nestled in his blankets. He did not know that his life was about to change greatly. He did not know that roughly ten years later, his life would greatly change once more.